


Don't Run

by Callaeidae3



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Head Injury, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Missions Gone Wrong, Near Death Experiences, Panic Attacks, Post Season 7, Pre-Kerberos Mission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-20
Updated: 2018-11-20
Packaged: 2019-08-25 23:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16670113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callaeidae3/pseuds/Callaeidae3
Summary: BTHB: Traumatic Touch Aversion.After seeing how badly Keith reacted to being restrained after punching Griffin as a kid, the last thing Shiro wants is to have to do exactly that - restrain him - when a head injury has Keith walking towards the edge of a cliff.





	Don't Run

**Author's Note:**

> Requested by @arwenride! :) You can find the bingo card I'm writing this from on my Tumblr @callaeidae3!

_Pre-Kerberos_

His fist connects with Griffin’s jaw. There’s so much _rage_ and _grief_ and _confusion_ behind that punch, but Keith only knows it as anger.

That’s all everyone else knows it as, too.

Commander Iverson grabs him by shoulders and hauls him away. Keith’s too full of chaotic emotion to notice himself flinch. He struggles, lurches out of Iverson’s grip and staggers back in Griffin’s direction – and that’s when Iverson’s hands come down on his shoulders _hard._

Fear catches in his throat. He twists and gets an elbow to the face. An arm around his chest. Panic. He claws at the arm, kicks. The restraining hold on him tightens.

Adrenaline surges through him. He screams.

“Iverson, let him go!”

Shiro’s voice, urgent. Keith hardly registers it’s his.

“Are you out of your mind?!”

“No – no, you don’t understand. That foster family – ”

The arms release him. Keith’s legs are shaking with the need to sprint but Shiro stands in his way, hands outstretched.

“Keith, no running.”

He doesn’t listen. Shiro doesn’t understand. He has to run.

“Hey.”

He has to run now or else.

“Keith, look at me.”

He can’t fight Shiro.

“Can you look at me, please?”

Keith’s paralysed. It terrifies him.

Time freezes, just like he is frozen. No one touches him. Griffin’s glaring at him, he can feel it. People are staring and Keith’s staring too, only it’s the floor that has his wide-eyed attention. Breathing far too rapidly, Keith forces his eyes up to Shiro’s.

Caution. Concern. Tiredness. Empathy.

Patience.

The urge to flee remains but it’s not so strong anymore.

“Are you alright?” Shiro asks him.

Keith scowls as best he can, frown wonky. “I’m fine.”

“Ah, well… there’s some pretty nasty bruises forming on your face that tell me otherwise.”

“That was my fault.”

“You panicked – the part where you punched Griffin was your fault, but not your reaction after that.”

“I’ll try harder.”

“…to?”

“I don’t know, not react? Not let people make fun of me?”

“Griffin was making fun of you?”

Keith growls. He hates all these questions. “I don’t want to talk about.”

“We’re going to have to, bud,” Shiro murmurs. “This has to be reported in to HOD, and I want to be able to stand up for you when it is. Will you let me do that?”

The adrenaline’s wearing off, as is the anger. Keith clenches his fists and has to force himself to maintain eye contact.

“Why?”

“Because I think your reactions just now were caused by something that hurt you deeply.”

Shiro says that in a lowered voice, low enough to be heard by them and them only. There’s a level of respect and understanding associated with that action, something Keith recognises as meaning that Shiro’s not a threat.

Keith decides to trust Shiro from that day onwards.

 

There ends up being, however, one day he doesn’t.

 

* * *

 

 

 

_Post-Season 7_

 

The _thunk_ that sounds through the comms is jarring, but it’s the silence that comes after that has Shiro’s heart dropping. It’s more deafening than the stillness of the desert.

“Keith?”

There’s no answer. Shiro listens hard and hears the faint drawing in of air.

“Keith, sound in.”

No change in breathing pattern.

“Keith?”

Shiro runs. He checks Keith’s location on his gauntlet as he rounds the hull of Sendak’s ship. Keith’s at the other end near thrusters, where they’d said right at the beginning there was a high risk of shrapnel coming lose from the ship.

 _Please, no…_ Shiro picks up the pace and sprints.

A groan. At the other end of the ship, a figure stands.

“Sh’r…hnnn?”

Shiro has run this fast before – when he was fearing for his life. It’s not himself he’s running for though, so his feet slam down on the dirt just a bit faster.

The figure starts walking. Red, white and black, staggering away from the ship and out into the sunlight. A fresh wave of adrenaline spurs Shiro on.

Keith’s walking straight for the edge of the canyon.

“Wh’r’? Sh…I’ll find you…wait…f’r me…”

Shiro’s halfway down the length of the ship. “Keith! Stop!”

Keith’s halfway across the width of ground to the cliff. “Kerb’ros didn’t…you…you di’n’t…”

“KEITH!”

“They’re…stupid. You woul’n’t crash. You…bes’ pilot there is.”

Shiro makes it with a metre to spare. He barrels into Keith and comes just short of tackling him to the ground. Shiro throws his weight to the side to take the brunt of the fall.

“Lemme go!” Keith growls, hands flailing. “Shiro’s out there, lemme…go!”

“Hey, it’s me. It’s me, Keith.”

“Hnnn, no! Sh’ro’s – !”

“I’m right here.”

“Let me go!”

Keith struggles out of his arms and rolls sideways.

Shiro’s heart lurches. “No!”

“Get ‘way from m- !“

Keith’s foot slips over the side.

He doesn’t think, just acts. He lunges after him, ground giving way to a charming bird’s eye view of the canyon and the river below. Shiro stretches out his arm and hooks it around Keith’s torso, then tilts them horizontal and digs the elbow of his prosthetic arm into the sandstone.

Even through free-fall, Shiro feels it when Keith flinches and his stomach churns.

They land hard. The prosthetic arm has carved a solid line through the rock, running almost all the way from the top of the cliff to the ledge they’re lying on. Shiro’s heart races, blood pounding in his head. He breathes hard, holding Keith as tight as he can to his chest. He can see the dent in the helmet now.

Without warning, Keith twists sharply. A noise escapes his throat like a whine, only full of panic and fear and desperation.

Shiro sucks in a shaky breath. “Keith, please.”

A roar in the far distance. _Red._

Keith screams. “Let me go!”

“No.”

“Le’ me…let me go! I have to find Shiro!”

Shiro rolls over, pinning Keith against the rock while using his prosthetic arm to anchor them both there. This ledge barely has enough room for the two of them to lie side by side and Keith’s still struggling to get free.

Keith’s breathing far too rapidly. His movements take on a sudden burst of strength and his eyes go wide and wild.

_Come on, Red._

“I’m sorry, Keith. I’m sorry. I can’t let you go.”

Black roars but Keith doesn’t hear it. He struggles harder, flinching as Shiro’s arm tightens around his shoulders and twisting this way and that to try to get free of it.

Shiro’s throat constricts. “I’m sorry.”

He remembers that day back at the Garrison. Of all the memories Haggar stole from him, that wasn’t one of them. He feels like a hypocrite now, having to restrain Keith when back then he’d been the one to tell Iverson to let him go. But Keith hadn’t had a head injury back then…

“I’m sorry.”

A shadow flies over the canyon. Shiro doesn’t look up but he instinctively knows it’s Red. Before the Lion even lands, though, a third presence flashes onto the ledge. A wall of cosmic wolf fur in Shiro’s vision and another flash later, they’re back at the top of the canyon.

Red’s just touched down. Weak with relief, Shiro loses his grip and Keith scrambles away from him – inland this time. Lance jumps out of Red and catches Keith before he can double back towards the cliff.

“We need to get him to medical, asap,” Shiro says, getting to his feet.

Lance spots the dent in the helmet and his face pales. “On it.”

They run up the ramp, Shiro’s legs wobbly with the fright and Lance hauling Keith like he’s wrestling a lion. Once they’re inside the cockpit, Lance hands him over to Shiro and takes to the pilot’s seat.

“Hang on, Keith,” he whispers. “Help is on the way.”

Keith sobs. His eyes are stretched wide in terror and he’s struggling to breathe. Shiro sits them down in the corner and has to close his eyes.

“Help is on the way.”

He rubs Keith’s back below his plating of his armour, slow and steady despite his shaking hand. Black’s presence washes over them, speaking calm, calm, calm, _safe._ Shiro breathes it in and starts crying. Keith’s relentless struggle finally begins to still.

Calm, calm, calm.

Safe.

Keith’s not the only one who needs to hear those words right now.

 

 


End file.
